


Fifteen Minutes

by mobheroacademia



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Unus Annus - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Depression, Gen, Insecurity, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, can be read as romantic or platonic, this is a fucked up vent i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobheroacademia/pseuds/mobheroacademia
Summary: Mark gets a text from Ethan.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65





	Fifteen Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> i figure i should let y'all know this takes place at some point in the 2016-2017 era when eef was still mark's editor and stuff

It was around nine PM when Mark received a text from Ethan—a video. His phone was sitting on his desk and lit up when he got the notification. Mark was filming a video so he ignored it, figuring it was probably just some meme or video clip that Ethan wanted to show him.

Mark spent around fifteen more minutes filming before he turned off his camera and decided he should start to get ready for bed. Mark had just finished washing his face when he remembered the text from Ethan that was still waiting on his phone.

Flopping onto his bed, Mark opened up his messages app and clicked on the video, watching the little loading spiral for a moment before he was faced with a video of Ethan. Immediately something felt off. This couldn’t be a clip from one of Ethan’s videos. Mark knew his recording room and this definitely wasn’t it. On top of that, Ethan's face was blotchy and red, as if he were just crying. Mark couldn’t remember a single time Ethan had cried in a video.

Mark turned up the volume to hear Ethan's slightly pixelated voice coming out of the small phone’s speaker.

“Hey, Mark, uh… this is… well, uh… Fuck, I should’ve thought of what I was gonna say beforehand,” Ethan gave a small nervous smile that did nothing to settle the unease that was starting to build in Mark’s core. “I made this video because I didn’t… I didn’t want to leave you without a goodbye, I guess.”

A goodbye? What was Ethan talking about? The two of them talked nearly every day about video schedules and such. The only possibility Mark could think of was that Ethan was quitting as Mark's editor.

“I have to be honest with you, Mark. I… fuck, I don’t know how to say this,” Ethan chuckled nervously, running his hand through his hair by instinct. “Mark, I'm... not who you think I am. The truth is, I've had really bad depression my whole life.”

That sentence hit Mark like a ton of bricks. Ethan—the most carefree, happy person he knew— was depressed? It just didn’t make sense.

“If I’m being completely honest now, you should also probably know that I really,  _ really _ fuckin’ hate myself,” Ethan’s chuckle was dry and there was no humor in it.

The pit in Mark's stomach was becoming colder by the second. He'd heard Ethan say that he hated himself many times before, sure, but that was always a joke…

right?

Mark was starting to think it was less of a joke than he initially thought.

“I just don’t understand” Ethan sniffled, starting to tear up, “Why would you ever want someone like me? W-why would you ever want some unfunny, attention-starved fanboy working for you? I’m just some kid—I’m just a stupid fuckin’ kid that-that  _ worshipped  _ you to the point that I was willing to uproot my whole life and move across the country for you! Why-why would you ever want someone like that around? I’m pathetic. I’m so fucking pathetic,” Ethan’s breathing was getting heavier and Mark could tell he was starting to go into some sort of anxiety attack.

“I’m so fucking annoying and everyone knows it. There’s a reason you guys always choose  _ me  _ to make fun of, you know?” Ethan was starting to sob now, tears flowing down his cheeks, “It’s-it’s always me at the butt of the joke! It’s always, ‘Ethan, that kid with acne,’ or, ‘Ethan, the one with the stupid intro,’ or, ‘Ethan, the youtuber that  _ copies Mark!’”  _ Ethan barely choked back a sob at that last one, going silent for a moment as he bit his trembling lip, trying to suppress tears.

“It’s not a secret everyone hates me. You and I both fucking know it. The only reason you wanted me to move here, to work for you, it was all out of pity. It was all pity for the most worthless, pathetic kid you’d ever seen,” Ethan went silent again. His voice was much quieter when he choked out, “You’d be so much better off without me, Mark.”

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

Mark suddenly understood the reason Ethan sent the video.

He bolted up out of his bed and practically ran out to his car, only stopping to grab the keys to Ethan’s apartment that he’d been given when Ethan first started editing for Mark. Thoughts raced through his mind at lightning speed as he started his car and tore out of the driveway.

He shouldn’t have made fun of Ethan so much; even though they made videos together and Ethan worked for him, Ethan was still just a kid. Still just a fragile kid who was struggling--fuck, how didn’t Mark catch on earlier? He internally cursed himself, thinking of every moment, every time he’d sensed something was off with Ethan, every time he’d _ignored_ it. He didn’t bother to help, didn’t bother to even _ask what was wrong._ He should have treated Ethan better. Ethan deserved better. God, he was such a terrible friend.

Mark pulled up to Ethan’s apartment, rushing out of the car as fast as he could. Ethan was the only thing on his mind as he took the stairs up to Ethan’s floor, knowing the elevator would take too long. Mark was shaking so bad that he could barely open the door to Ethan’s apartment, fumbling with the key for a solid twenty seconds. The moment he got it open, though, he barged in without a second thought.

“Ethan!” Mark called out, frantically searching for the boy. He ran into the kitchen, checked through the hall and living room, even checking Ethan’s room and recording studio. Where was he? Where could he be?

“Ethan! Fuck, this isn’t funny!” Mark yelled, starting to feel himself unraveling. He was starting to panic, his breathing getting heavier and his eyes starting to tear up. Mark was getting desperate, disregarding any notion of privacy he’d usually hold as he looked through closets and cabinets in a vain attempt to locate his friend.

It was when Mark tried the bathroom door that he knew where the boy was hiding. The locked door told him everything he needed to know. He banged on the door as hard as he could, barely able to stop himself from breaking the door down right then and there.

“Ethan, please, open the door. Ethan, I’m sorry, I-I fucking care about you so much just please, please, please be safe. Ethan I can’t lose you,” Mark started to cry, frantically jiggling the doorknob. His frustration got the best of him and it was only a few moments before he was plowing his full body weight into the door, breaking the lock in two tries.

Mark froze and felt his heart sink as he took in the scene before him.

Ethan lay in the bathtub, lifelessly staring at the ceiling with blank eyes. His blue t-shirt and tan pants were stained red with the blood that pooled around him. His milky, frail wrists were sliced open, blood flowing down his arms in horrifying red branches. What really broke Mark was Ethan’s  _ face _ . Ethan, who held so much joy, who’s smile could light up a room, was now a hollow shell. His head was tilted back, his blue hair matted to his forehead with sweat. His lips were slightly parted and his unblinking eyes were open wide, staring straight forward at the ceiling. He looked so empty, so numb, yet so sorrowful.

Mark fell to his knees, unable to look away. His mouth was dry and suddenly no matter how much he tried to inhale he couldn’t draw air into his lungs. He was unable to think, unable to process what was happening. This couldn’t be real. He’d just seen Ethan yesterday, and he didn’t look anything like this. This person--this  _ thing  _ wasn’t Ethan, it couldn’t be. Those lifeless eyes could never belong to his friend.

Mark was unable to cry. He was unable to move. He could do nothing but stare. Stare in horror. Stare at the boy he’d once known, the boy he’d cared for and tried to be welcoming to. The boy he’d tried to help by providing a job, giving him exposure on Mark’s channel.

Oh god, this was all Mark’s fault, wasn’t it? If Mark never offered Ethan that editing job he never would have gotten to this point. This was all Mark’s fault. If Mark wasn’t so busy with work he could’ve been here earlier. He could’ve prevented this, called paramedics or something. At the very least he would’ve been able to talk to Ethan in his final moments. He’d have been able to tell Ethan he was sorry, that he cared for him and loved him, that he was only trying to help.

Now he’d never be able to. He’d never be able to talk to Ethan again. He’d never be able to see him smile or hear him laugh--not in the real world, at least.

The realization had Mark vomiting in seconds. Ethan was gone. There was no way to fix things. There was no way to make it right. He was gone.

He wasn’t coming back.

**Author's Note:**

> lmk if i have any errors, i stayed up all night writing this and barely proofread it at all


End file.
